


Tarantella

by Emerald



Category: Moonlight (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-08
Updated: 2009-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerald/pseuds/Emerald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An offering of Josef/Mick for Valentine's Day. It's Mick's first Valentine's Day after Coraline's untimely passing and Mick ends up getting more than what he bargained for when Josef decides to teach him how to dance a Tarantella.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tarantella

“You’ve certainly gone to a lot of effort.” Mick surveyed the array of wine bottles and candles lain out on the floor in front of him. Raising the glass in his hand, he tilted it in Josef’s direction and then threw back a mouthful of the crimson fluid inside.

February the fourteenth, Valentine’s Day, Mick should have been spending a moment like this with his wife. Circumstances being what they were, he instead found himself sprawled out on his best friend’s living room floor, sipping blood wine from elegant glasses and trying not to set himself alight with the ridiculous number of candles Josef had decided to put on display. Still, he was grateful for the company. It was the first Valentine’s Day since the incident at the warehouse, as Mick preferred to think of it. He hadn’t exactly relished the thought of spending this particular occasion alone.

“Well I know how you love all this hearts and flowers bullshit.” Josef tipped the glass in his own hand and arched an eyebrow. “You, my friend, are an old fashioned romantic.”

“You’re the one who arranged this.” Mick parried back, raising a pointed eyebrow of his own. “So what does that make you?”

“Me?” Josef pretended to consider Mick’s question for a moment, head tilted and the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Oh I’m just your garden variety hedonist.”

“Really?” Mick snorted a laugh and shook his head. _“As if I didn’t already know that.”_

“You know it’s just occurred to me that I’ve never shown you how to dance a Tarantella properly.” Josef shifted the conversation then, mouth turned upwards in a grin. “Come on; get up, if nothing else it’ll be good for a laugh.”

Getting to his feet, Josef gestured for Mick to do the same and then extended his hand out for Mick to take.

“Don’t we need music for this?” Mick’s brow scrunched in a question as Josef pulled him into a dancer’s embrace.

“Use your imagination.” Josef snorted a quick laugh and pressed a firm hand into the small of Mick’s back.

Mick barely had time to register Josef’s words before he found himself being whirled around the room like a dervish. He stumbled and tripped, legs tangling with Josef’s, head thrown back and a bubble of laughter emanating from his lips as he tried desperately to follow Josef’s lead and avoid knocking over the candles strewn around the floor beneath them at the same time.

“I think I’m getting dizzy.”

More laughter, an exhilaration of movement and Josef’s voice telling him not to think about it, just let go. Later Mick would come up with all manner of reasons for what he did next; it was the wine, the place, the setting, the date on the calendar, stars aligning in a certain pattern of formation in the night sky.

One moment he was being pulled around the room, laughing with sheer abandon, stumbling and tripping in an awkward parody of rhythm as he tried in vain keep up with the frenetic pace of the dance. The next, he was suspended in time, his arms drawing Josef near, his lips seeking heated contact with Josef’s, feeling the weight of flesh and muscle pressed hard against his own solidness.

Josef yielded to the kiss for a moment and then broke away, carefully disengaging himself from Mick’s embrace.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish, Mick.” Josef’s expression was a pointed challenge, eyebrows raised and head cocked.

And then Mick’s hands were reaching for him once again, gripping his shoulders, half spinning, half guiding him towards the adjoining kitchen.

Fingers clawed deftly at buttons and zippers, shirts and suit coats were removed and left to lie where they fell, Josef’s chest reverberated with the sensation of Mick growling into his mouth.

“There’s oil in the cupboard under the sink, use that.” Josef managed to blurt out, just as Mick finished undoing the last of the fastenings on Josef’s pants and then turned him around to face the kitchen bench.

“I wasn’t planning on cooking you a meal you know.” The bemusement in Mick’s voice was evident. He hurriedly pulled Josef’s pants and underwear down to his knees and then placed a hand in the centre of Josef’ back and pushed him face forward down onto the wooden surface.

“You know far be it from me to point out the blatantly obvious,” Josef’s tone was mockingly polite, a glance stolen over his shoulder, watching as Mick took a step back and began to work on removing the remainder of his own clothing, “but it just so happens that I’m not female.”

The sound of those words jolted Mick back to reality.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

A hastily muttered apology, eyes averted, breath hitched and throat bobbing nervously.

 _“Great. Another one of your ‘well it seemed like a good idea at the time’ classic moments, St John.”_

“You know one of these days, Mick,” A barely disguised cloud of frustration darkened Josef’s features. “That tendency of yours to rush in where angels fear to tread is going to get you into a lot of trouble.”

Mick felt Josef’s hands clutching his forearms then, Josef’s body pressing against his and pushing him back against the bench. Josef used one hand to lock and span Mick’s wrists, pinning them behind Mick’s back, whilst the other worked its way inside Mick’s boxers.

“Oh shi….” Mick bit back a moan as Josef’s fingers curled around his shaft and began to stroke.

Mick’s mind raced. This was his best friend, the man he shared almost everything with, the brother he entrusted with his life and darkest secrets. And now it appeared Josef was determined to have them step over a line Mick wasn’t at all sure they should be crossing.

Despite what had passed between them a few short moments ago, reality continued to weigh in on Mick’s thoughts.

 _“Christ, stop, please, I made a mistake before, I can’t be doing this, not with you.”_

And still Josef’s hand continued to stroke the length of Mick’s cock, expert fingers tightening around his girth, pumping him from base to tip.

“Josef, please, don’t…”

Almost in spite of himself Mick felt his body yielding to Josef’s touch. He groaned and arched into the sensation.

“…don’t stop.”

Mick almost swore then he could hear Josef’s smug, triumphant grin. He buried his face against Josef’s shoulder, breath rapid and catching in his throat. Fervent snarls erupting from his lips, he urged Josef on.

“Oh Christ, fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

Somewhere amidst the haze of his own pleasure, Mick was vaguely aware of Josef grinding his own erection hard against his thigh, pressing himself repeatedly against Mick’s body, riding him, matching the rhythm of his hand on Mick’s cock.

Josef increased the pace and bought the both of them over the edge. A rare moment of simultaneous release, punctuated by furious snarls and cries of pleasure. Fangs penetrating flesh, fluid dampening pants and flooding over fingers.

“The world is your oyster now.” Josef gradually slowed his attentions on Mick’s cock, waiting for the last pulsations of Mick’s orgasm to subside before releasing him. “You need to learn to stop backing away from it.”

A series of after shocks ran through Mick’s body, leaving him weak kneed and trembling as Josef wiped his hand on a convenient towel and then poured Mick a fresh glass of blood wine.

“Here, drink this; you look like you could use it.” Josef pressed the glass into Mick’s hand and waited for him to take a sip.

His hand gripping the back of Mick’s neck then, Josef drew Mick back into his space and brushed his lips against Mick’s mouth, whispering to him, his voice low and earnest.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mick.”


End file.
